


Stardust & Mechanisms

by glorifiedscapegoat



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, M/M, No.6 Secret Santa 2019, Pre-Relationship, Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorifiedscapegoat/pseuds/glorifiedscapegoat
Summary: “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Nezumi said. He swooped into a theatrical bow. “To what do we owe the honor of Your Highness’s presence at our humble shop?”No.6 Secret Santa 2019 gift for Cruria
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48





	Stardust & Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! This is my Secret Santa gift for Cruria.
> 
> Cruria mentioned wanting an AU of some kind, either fantasy or steampunk. I tried to combine the two, so I hope you all enjoy what I came up with! It was a lot of fun to work on. I haven’t written a lot of stuff with Inukashi in it, so this was a nice little challenge to include them in it!

Nezumi set the brass ball-and-socket joint on the counter. His fingers ached from twisting the wrench and securing the hex nut in place. He’d spent the better part of his morning assembling the pieces necessary to repair his client’s mechanical arm; the socket joint for the shoulder attachment had been the simplest part.

Copper sunlight spilled through the holes and patches in the cloth covering the roof of Nezumi’s little corner shop. He was stationed in the middle of the labor district, the market comprising the eastern part of West Block.

Unlike the floating city of Kronos—glowing such a beautiful silver that, in the darkness, it closely resembled a moon—West Block’s citizens were horrendously poor. Their shops, booths, and homes had fallen into an irreparable state of disarray. Finding a curtain large enough to cover the entire roof of Nezumi’s shop had been a hassle. Finding one that hadn’t been completely devoured by moths had been another adventure.

His client’s mechanical arm was like the rest of West Block: old, decrepit, and covered in rust. It had barely uncurled when Nezumi worked a screwdriver in the bolts around the elbow.

Nezumi had access to other parts—ceramic, heavy plastic, and even silver—thanks to a few favors and connections he’d accumulated over the years, but the men and women of West Block couldn’t afford such luxury. His client could sell her entire house, all the clothes in her possession, and any scrap of jewelry she owned, and still not afford the mechanical limbs the royals possessed.

Accidents and illnesses were not limited to the lower quarter. The citizens of Kronos simply had better access to resources, and they often flaunted it.

Nezumi set the wrench down and flexed his fingers. Sensa Paz, the Disposer’s wife who’d requested the repair of her right arm, would return at sundown for her limb. With the sun approaching the center of the sky, Nezumi knew he had less than eight hours to complete the limb enough for Sensa Paz to be satisfied with his handiwork.

 _I can afford a break_. Nezumi slumped back against the counter with a relieved groan.

Inukashi had gone to the market to procure a few long screws, as Nezumi’s more recent jobs had depleted their supply. Nezumi figured it would take them at least another ten minutes to shove their way through the heavy crowd and stomp back to the shop.

He could afford to rest until Inukashi came barging around the corner and sniped at him for being lazy.

Nezumi and Inukashi had been West Block’s only mechanics for over four years. At twelve years old, little Nezumi had earned a place for himself among the citizens of West Block by taking no shit and producing the best products for the best price. Inukashi’s arrival and eventual hire granted Nezumi access to better materials.

His business had grown profitable enough, granting him access to at least a comfortable way of life. Nezumi couldn’t afford pointless luxury, but he preferred it that way. He never wanted to become as pompous as the royals gorging themselves to death in the floating city.

Nezumi’s shop was small, and his services were mostly limited to mechanical limbs. West Block had a fair assortment of folks in need of new limbs after workplace accidents. The old man who ran a clothes shop on the other end of West Block had traded Nezumi several new pairs of pants in exchange for a new foot after a gas leak, and eventual explosion, had left him minus one appendage.

West Block was busy in the morning hours. Sunlight meant life, and life meant warmth. The nights were cool in West Block. Folks did their shopping in the daylight, bundling themselves in their drafty homes at night and praying to whatever gods listening that the morning wouldn’t bring illness into their lives.

A few rusted droids rolled through the crowded market. Decommissioned soldiers from deep in the floating city whose memory drives had been completely wiped. Without a purpose, the royals dumped them in West Block’s junkyard. Some of the soldiers had reactivated, and roamed the streets with no purpose. Nezumi had once powered one down with a knife to the control panel, in hopes that tinkering with it might provide an insight into Kronos’s secrets. To his disappointment, the royals had thoroughly erased the droid’s memory. It had no sentience and no intelligence. Just a big, lumbering machine rolling on for eternity until rust and decay consumed it.

Nezumi dragged his fingers through his long, dark hair. He kept it tied back, lest it get tangled in the gaps and wheels comprising his equipment. Nezumi had often considered chopping it short, but his appearance sold his services almost as well as his skills. People in West Block thought he was “beautiful” and “charming”, and Nezumi’s appearance continued to convince them. If keeping his hair long brought in more business, then Nezumi would allow it.

“Hey! _Hey!_ ”

Nezumi looked up. He spotted one of the Disposers, a gargantuan man with a glowing red eye surrounded by a metal panel, charging through the crowd on the heels of a child clutching a loaf of bread in her little fist.

“You thief,” the Disposer snarled. His single red eye locked on his target, his other human blue one wild with fury. “Get back here!”

Nezumi frowned. The Disposers were men tasked with getting rid of junk (and on occasion, corpses) from the streets. Most of them had lost arms and legs and eyes in mining accidents, hired by the royals for construction projects, only to be tossed aside when damage and injuries made them unable to continue work.

Most of the Disposers stuck to their assigned tasks, but a few considered themselves enforcers of the unspoken laws of West Block. There were no officers or guards to keep the peace. No protections for folks aside from weapons and those who were paid to provide their services.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes at the Disposer’s retreating back as he chased the girl into the crowd. There was nothing to be done about it. Thieves were common in West Block, and if it wasn’t coming from his shop, it had nothing to do with Nezumi.

He stretched his arms above his head. The tension in his spine traveled down each limb as he rolled his shoulders. He had a long day of work ahead of him.

_Inukashi should be back any moment now_. Nezumi glared into the crowd. There were plenty of dark-haired folks shoving people aside, but none of them were short enough or angry enough to be Nezumi’s oh-so-wonderful assistant. _Where in the three hells are they?_

Nezumi picked up the ball-and-socket joint, admiring his handiwork. It was a bit pricier than his client could afford, but anything cheaper would prevent the arm from moving at all. Sometimes it was worth it to sacrifice a little extra. Nezumi was proud of his handiwork. His services were the best in West Block, and no one would tell him otherwise.

Nezumi looked over his shoulder. His client’s arm lay on top of his workbench, a dim light illuminating the rust around the wrist joint and three of the long, thin fingers. An android’s arm. Not his client’s original, and certainly not one crafted for her. The poor woman had most likely been forced to steal one from a less-than-fortunate android in the junkyards.

BANG.

Nezumi turned with a scowl. Inukashi edged around the counter, ducking into the shade of the shop, clutching a burlap bag in one fist and a metal can in the other. Condensation dripped down the side of the metal can, and Nezumi’s quick eyes caught the flash of a white logo.

He shot Inukashi a blank look. “Let me guess, you didn’t get me anything.”

“You didn’t ask me to, now did you?” Inukashi’s brown eyes narrowed, and they dropped the burlap sack onto the counter, jarring the ball-and-socket joint. “Here’s the stuff you really wanted.”

Nezumi caught the part before it rolled onto the ground, and set it off to the side. He undid the bit of rope holding the burlap closed and peered inside. “That’s it?” He glared at Inukashi. “I gave you ten bronze pieces.”

“Caro raised her prices.” Inukashi set the can on the counter and ran their fingers through their long, black hair. They’d tied it into a high ponytail to combat the morning heat. “That’s what six bronze pieces gets you these days.”

“I gave you ten.”

“Forty percent delivery fee. You’re welcome.” Inukashi picked up their drink and took a long sip.

Nezumi snatched it away from them, ignoring their startled cry and following “Hey!” He took a long drink, and wrinkled his nose. Citrus flavored and carbonated.

“Solar berry,” Nezumi said. “Gross.”

Inukashi grabbed it back from him. “Well, it’s not _yours_ , jerk!” They moved just far enough away from Nezumi to be out of reach. “You got spit all over it!” They grumbled and wiped the rim with the edge of their threadbare red shirt.

“You’re lucky I didn’t pour it out,” Nezumi said.

“Screw you,” Inukashi said. “It’s a thousand degrees out here!”

Nezumi opened his mouth to say that if Inukashi had such a problem with it then they could spend the money to get an air conditioning unit installed—and he noticed a figure in a dark gray cloak slowly approaching the shop.

The figure was shorter than Nezumi expected, and much younger. Beneath the hood of the cloaked robe, he could make out youthful, round cheeks and vibrant eyes. The stranger had an idle smile on his lips, and Nezumi immediately knew he didn’t belong.

“Customer,” Inukashi said, taking another sip of their drink.

Nezumi watched the stranger approach. As he drew nearer, Nezumi began to recognize the shape of his face. The familiar curve of his jaw, the slender slope of his nose, and the shape of his big, warm eyes. Nezumi had seen that face countless times on the hovering screens lingering outside the floating city of Kronos.

“Good morning,” said the young man as he finally reached the counter. He gave Inukashi a big smile, and then turned to address Nezumi. “I was hoping you could help me.”

Inukashi snorted and took a sip of their drink. The can was almost empty.

Nezumi drummed his fingers on the counter top. The coloration was all wrong, but there was no mistaking it. Nezumi had seen this boy’s face before. Everyone in West Block had.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Nezumi said. He swooped into a theatrical bow. “To what do we owe the honor of Your Highness’s presence at our humble shop?”

Inukashi choked on their drink.

The young man’s dark brown eyes widened in shock. There was a distinct rim of crimson around the inky blackness of his pupils—a tell-tale sign that the pigmentation of his irises was the result of colored contacts.

The Prince of Stars was as famous in West Block as the floating city. Not born to the royal family, he’d been deemed special from birth due to his unnatural coloration. His silver hair and scarlet eyes were rumored to be signs of the gods’ blessings. The strange child and his mother had been taken into the royal family, dumped into the lap of luxury and treated like gods themselves, all due to the pigmentation of the child’s features.

“Ah, stars,” the prince said, defeated. His shoulders slumped. “How could you tell?”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. “Your face is well-known, Your Highness.”

The prince glanced over his shoulder, and then back to Nezumi. “Ah, well, maybe we can keep this just between the three of us?”

Inukashi put the empty can on the counter. They stared at the prince as if he’d come to them flanked by a legion of guards.

“All right, then,” Nezumi said, the corner of his lips quirking up in a bemused smile. If the prince insisted on acting like a customer, then Nezumi would treat him like any other customer. “What can we do for you?”

“Shion,” the prince said.

“Excuse me?”

“Instead of the Highness stuff. You can call me Shion.”

The prince offered his hand out, and Nezumi didn’t take it. The prince wore gloves, most likely to conceal the scarlet scar wrapped around his body. Another blessing from the gods. The mark went all the way to the prince’s face, and Nezumi could see the blended marks of concealer painted on the prince’s face. His disguise had been thorough, at least.

“Is that your real name?” Nezumi asked.

“Real enough,” Shion replied with a pleasant smile. “How about you?”

“Nezumi.” He jerked his head to Inukashi, whose face had turned an amusing shade of green. “And that’s Inukashi.”

Inukashi quickly glanced at him.

Shion blinked. “Are those your real names?”

“Real enough,” Nezumi echoed.

Instead of being offended, Shion laughed. “All right. But my name actually is Shion.”

“And as far as we’re concerned, my name is actually Nezumi.” Nezumi folded his arms across his chest. “Now, what can we help you with?”

“Oh, right.” Shion reached up and lowered his hood. His silver hair had been dyed a dark shade of brown. Whoever had applied the color had paid special attention to the roots. It looked odd to see the mythical prince look so… normal, but Nezumi felt more comfortable with it than if the prince had come before him in his typical coloring. Whether people believed the rumors or not, Shion’s strange coloring was otherworldly. Alluring, Nezumi might say, even though the sight of it made his stomach twist with anxiety.

“I need your assistance,” the prince said.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“My friend,” Shion said. “She lost her leg when she was little. She has a mechanical one. It’s made of porcelain. It breaks, all the time. She’s had all the mechanics in Kronos look at it, and every single time, it stops moving or it falls apart.”

“That’ll happen with cheap parts,” Nezumi said. “Or when the mechanic putting it together has no idea what they’re doing.”

“The parts aren’t cheap. That’s the problem. Safu keeps paying them everything they ask for, and nothing works.” Shion’s brow furrowed. Even his eyebrows had been dyed to match the shade of his disguised hair. “It’s almost like… Well, it’s almost as if they’re—”

“As if they’re building them to fall apart.”

The prince pressed his lips into a thin line.

“It’s possible,” Nezumi said. “It’s not surprising, given how you royals are willing to pay through the nose for their services.”

The royal family and elites privileged enough to live in the floating city had no idea what the citizens of West Block would give to have access to the resources Kronos took for granted. How many men and women in West Block starved every day because they couldn’t afford medicine? How many folks gave everything they had for a chance to survive?

“It’s still not right,” Shion objected. “If someone’s paying for your services, you should do your best work. Not design them to fall apart just to keep making money.”

Nezumi’s lips drew back over his teeth. “What a charmingly delusional world you live in, Your Highness.”

Inukashi’s eyes shot to Nezumi. They looked ready to snap back at him, but their lips remained stubbornly closed. Inukashi had no love for the royal family. To have the prince himself right in front of them, however, seemed to have knocked the fire right out of them. Inukashi was an angry person, but they valued survival above all else.

Speaking back to a member of the royal family was one thing.

Speaking back to the Prince of the Stars was a death wish.

Nezumi expected Shion to glare at him. He expected Shion to square his shoulders and raise his voice. To demand to know who exactly Nezumi thought he was talking to.

Nezumi valued his life. He could charm his way out of trouble with a pleasant smile and a feigned apology. He doubted he would be able to do the same to the Prince of the Stars.

Rather than look offended, Shion’s lips pressed into a pensive frown. His brow furrowed. He looked thoughtful, rather than furious. The sunlight cast a strange glimmer on the strands of his dyed hair, and Nezumi caught a quick imitation of the infamous silver beneath.

“I came to ask for your help,” Shion said. His voice was gentle and soft. “I know things have been… difficult for the citizens of West Block.”

Nezumi’s eyebrows shot up.

“I am the prince,” Shion said, lowering his voice on the word. His eyes darted around, doing a quick sweep of the crowd. No one had drifted close to Nezumi’s booth, and none of them seemed to notice the royal family member in their midst. “But my power is limited. The King and Queen of the Stars like to keep me… away from politics.”

Nezumi cocked his hip. “I tend to stay away from politics myself. Too confusing. It’s all just corruption and nonsense.”

Shion winced, but didn’t object. “I was young when they brought me in. My mother told me stories about what it was like when she grew up. She said things were bad, but this…” He looked over his shoulder at the patchwork booths and dilapidated buildings surrounding him.

“You came here for a reason,” Nezumi said, no longer interested in listening to the prince’s obvious attempt at an apology. Nezumi had no need for them. It wouldn’t change anything. “I do have other jobs to finish, so if you don’t need anything from us, then maybe you should be on your way.”

“I wanted to commission you,” Shion said.

“Commission me?”

“To build a leg for my friend. A better one.”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow.

“I asked around,” Shion went on. “Rumor has it you’re the best mechanic in West Block. Your handiwork is impressive. People talk in Kronos, you know. I’ve heard about you.”

“The elites in Kronos talk about me?” Nezumi pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m honored.”

Shion narrowed his eyes. “You’re quite sarcastic, aren’t you?”

Nezumi snorted.

“I wanted to seek your help,” Shion said. “Safu helps her grandmother a lot. It’s difficult for her to assist when her leg keeps breaking down.”

“There aren’t _servants_ she could get to help her?” Nezumi asked, spitting the word at Shion like poison.

Shion squared his shoulders. “Safu prefers to help her grandmother herself. She doesn’t like taking advantage of people. Neither of us does.”

Nezumi barked out a laugh. “So you mean to tell me that you—the Prince of the Stars, the boy blessed by the gods—don’t use servants?”

“I prefer not to take advantage of people,” Shion replied.

Nezumi shook his head. He hadn’t been expecting the Prince of the Stars to be like this. The few times he’d glimpsed Shion’s face on the jumbo screens and holonets, he’d looked monotone and distant. Nothing at all like the boy standing before him. Shion stood before him, arms folded, his thin lips slowly quirking up at the edges as if he couldn’t help but be in a good mood. Happiness seemed to roll off Shion in waves. It was almost infectious.

“Commissioning an entire leg is a big task, Your Highness,” Nezumi said after a moment. “It isn’t as simple as repairing a limb.”

Shion’s eyes widened. “You’ll do it?”

“We’ll do it?” Inukashi sputtered.

“For the right price,” Nezumi replied. At Shion’s confused look, Nezumi went on, “Procuring the supplies needed to make a mechanical limb suitable for royalty demands a hefty fee.”

“I have coins.” Shion reached into his pocket. Beneath his cloak, Nezumi caught sight of a plain gray shirt and a pair of black slacks. Shion had dressed down from the fine clothes Nezumi had glimpsed in the holonets, but his clothes were still nicer than anything in West Block. Shion dropped three silver pieces on the table. “I didn’t bring a lot with me.”

“A wise decision,” Nezumi remarked. “Someone might’ve mugged you.”

“But they didn’t.” Shion put his hands on his hips and grinned.

“It’s a difficult assignment you’ve tasked me with,” Nezumi said. "And a time-consuming one, at that."

Shion folded his hands on the counter and cocked his head to the side. “I understand if you’re busy. You have other jobs. And if you’re not up for the task, then I suppose I can seek out another mechanic.”

Nezumi’s eyes flashed.

“Of course,” Shion went on, “I was excited to commission the best mechanic in West Block.”

_Oh, you little brat_. “Well,” Nezumi said, pretending to give it some thought. “I would hate to have had you come all this way just to be disappointed.” He swept the three coins off the counter and into his closed fist.

Shion’s lips drew back in a smile.

“Three weeks,” Nezumi said. “Getting the things together will take some time. I also have other clients, and I operate on a first-come, first-serve basis.”

“I understand,” Shion said. “I don’t expect special treatment.”

“The limb I make won’t fall apart easily, but it will still require maintenance. Three months is the typical wear-and-tear limit on porcelain limbs.”

“The ones she’s been getting break down after three weeks.”

Nezumi whistled and cast a glance at the floating city. “The mechs up there must be scamming you big time.”

“Will you require payment before you finish working,” Shion asked, “or after?”

“The three silvers count as your deposit. I’ll need fifty percent after I get the materials, and the rest when you come to pick it up.”

“How long will it take you to get the materials?” Shion glanced over his shoulder again. He drew the hood up, settling it on top of his dyed hair. “It might be easier for me to sneak out again and bring you the payment.”

_Sneak out, huh?_ Nezumi was almost impressed. “A week to get the materials,” Nezumi said. “The whole job will require eight gold coins.”

Shion barely blinked at the price. “Four gold coins in a week, then,” Shion said. “Is that with or without the tip?”

Inukashi dropped the empty can on the counter. They’d been standing silently during the course of Shion and Nezumi’s conversation, but the mention of tipping spurred them into action.

“Without,” Nezumi replied, giving Shion a pleasant smile. “Tips are appreciated, but not expected.”

“Of course.” Shion returned his smile, and Nezumi couldn’t help the surge of excitement and terror that bubbled through him. It had been so long since he’d felt engaged in a conversation, it made him nervous but eager for more. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“So next week, then,” Shion said.

“Next week.”

“All right.” Shion’s brilliant white teeth glimmered in the sunlight. “Thank you, Nezumi. I look forward to working with you.” He turned to Inukashi and nodded. “And you as well, Inukashi.”

Inukashi’s teeth clacked together. Their wild eyes flickered over the prince’s face, searching for signs of mistrust and betrayal. When they didn’t spot any, their lips turned down in a frown, but they said, “Yeah. You, too.”

With one last look at Nezumi, Shion turned and marched into the crowd. He slowly eased his way through the gaps between people traveling between various shops and booths, offering soft apologies when people bumped into him. He stopped for no one and nothing. He simply kept moving forward, bleeding into the crowd until he was nothing more than a gray smear retreating into the distance.

The moment Shion was out of sight, Inukashi turned and landed a solid punch on Nezumi’s shoulder.

“ _Ow!_ ” Nezumi reeled back. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s yours?” Inukashi snarled. Their face was pale. “You’re going to get us both arrested!”

“He didn’t want to be treated like a prince, so I didn’t treat him like one. Why are you so pissed off?”

“Gah, I can’t believe you!” Inukashi spun around and stomped into the back of the shop. “I’m not here! If the guards come and lock you up for running your mouth to the prince, it has nothing to do with me!”

“You’re an accomplice,” Nezumi called over his shoulder. “You watched the whole thing and didn’t say anything.”

“I was never here!”

Nezumi clicked his tongue. The weight of the silver coins in his hand was unsettling. He’d never been offered so much money for a job before. A single silver for his best work. To take a job worth eight gold pieces was insanity.

Shion’s smile flashed before his eyes, sending an unfamiliar bolt of warmth through Nezumi’s chest. He scowled and dropped the silver coins into his pocket. There was no point in worrying about it now. He had a job to finish, and then he would begin his task. There was plenty of time to sort his emotions out later.

_He’ll be back in a week_.

Nezumi felt a pang of disappointment that it was so far away.

_...Dammit. Better get to work, then_.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, all! <3


End file.
